Page 11 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

Her scent lingers in the current, tangled with the magic she left behind. I breathe it in, let it curl through my senses—salt and something else I am unfamiliar with—and focus. And then I follow it, every ripple, every echo and use it to guide me straight to her.

The scent of magic and salt carries me to the edge of the sea, where waves break against concrete, steel, and sandy shores. I take a moment beneath the surface, shift my form, and rise into the world of the land-dwellers.

It is jarring, every time. To feel the weight of gravity again, to breathe air instead of the endless pull of water around me, but I make the change easily. Skin smooths over scales, fins recede, and I become a man. Just another face among the crowd.

It is past sundown, so the worry about catching the eyes of strangers because of my attire is no concern to me. I find human clothing to be restricting. However, I do carry a pair of pants, old and torn, in my bag for this exact reason. I made that mistake once. I will not do it again.

Her trail pulls me inland, through busy streets and endless noise, even at this time of day, until I reach a towering building of glass and steel. Of course. Where else would someone with stolen power hide?

I don’t enter. Not yet. The building stretches high, its walls of glass and steel reflecting the sky. The entrance glistens, glass doors outlined in gold. I step forward, reaching for the handle of one of the doors. A man beside the door watches me, eyes narrowing as I linger. He wears a white shirt with a blue-and-gold vest over top and some kind of material rests atop his head to match.

How bizarre . . .

“Do you need some assistance, sir?” he asks politely, breaking my stare.

“No. Maybe. I am searching for someone. A Sarah Fischer,” I say, “Does she reside here?”

“Unfortunately, sir, I am not authorized to reveal that information.” He shifts, blocking the entrance with his body. “Without a code, I cannot allow you inside.”

I retreat. I melt into the shadows beneath the awning, maneuvering to the side, crouching on the pavement as I watch the entrance. Without the sea to enhance my powers, I am limited. This isn’t my world and I don’t know how to properly exist in it. I lean against the cold structure, as my eyes remain vigilant on the bodies ahead. Anything or anyone that gives me an angle to get inside.

The night passes, the full moon hangs overhead, but no one enters or leaves the building. I rest when I can, my senses alert even as my body begs for sleep, while she remains somewhere above, untouchable.

Morning comes, and I must have dozed off at some point, exhausted from the journey here. Rising from my crouched position, I move slowly to the front of the building. A figure approaches carrying a cup in each hand, and a square item tucked under one arm. He moves with easy confidence, greets the man at the door—someone different from the one I encountered last night—and is authorized inside.

I glare past the new doorman into the vast room beyond. The man walks toward a set of steel doors on the far side, pressing a button beside a series of numbers. From here, I cannot make them out completely, but I can see which button he presses.

His mouth moves, words inaudible through the glass. I tilt my head to the side, watching closely. The man sighs, shifts one of the cups on top of the other, and pushes some more buttons on a panel to the left of the steel doors with practiced ease. The doors glide open and he saunters in, disappearing from my view.

I need to figure out a way inside.

The sun climbs higher, and the street stirs with life. The doorman is swept up in it, darting from car to car, opening doors for anyone who pulls up. His attention finally locks onto a woman whose bag is caught in the trunk of a bright yellow car, leaving me the opening I need to slip through the lobby doors and head for the steel ones beyond.

I did not expect to get this far, I freeze. Panic flares when the doorman bursts through the front doors, shouting after me. I turn back to the steel doors and jab at the panel, hoping something responds. A sharp chime sounds, and the doors slide open to reveal an empty chamber waiting inside. I slip in just as the doorman’s footsteps close in behind me.

The doors close, but he is still shouting, still pursuing. The muscles of my neck tighten and desperation drives me as I smack my hand against the panel inside the box. It lights up with a yellow-orange tint, its purpose unknown to me.

The box lurches, then rises with a force that knocks my balance off. I stare at the panel, waiting for this contraption to cease its movements. Another chime rings above my head, and the doors open. I peer my head outside and appear to be enclosed in a space that can only go left and right. Doors line both sides, more options that I’m willing to wager. Two young land-dwellers play at the end of the long stretched corridor and I chose to stay inside the steel box.

The metal box refuses to move. The doors remain open, mocking me with the distance between myself and the land-dweller I am searching for. The thought that this contraption is what stops me from reaching her and putting an end to this madness, stirs my magic within me.

I press my hand against the panel again. My magic, faint and sluggish on land, answers before I can stop it. The lights flicker. The buttons beneath my palm hums. For the briefest moment, the powers inside me remember the reason I am here and the steel box climbs again. Higher.

Then it stops. The doors part, not into another stretched corridor, but into a home. Sunlight pours into an open space with floor to ceiling glass protecting it from the weather outside. And the faint pulse of magic that I’ve been hunting, stares at me with emerald green eyes.

I found her.

six

Orion

The lingering dread consumes me, but it is her beauty that steals my breath away. For a moment, I can do nothing but look upon her. I never imagined a land-dweller could be as beautiful as she is.

The woman standing before me is almost a foot shorter than I am. Her red auburn hair falls in light, wavy curls that reach the middle of her chest, vibrant and alive like a sea anemone’s crimson arms flickering with the tide. Her eyes—emerald green, so deep and striking—could be mistaken for an emerald moray slipping into its cave. Her lips—Wait!

This is the woman who took your father’s powers. What are you doing? I shake my head, forcing myself back into focus. The strength of my father’s magic and the weight of the prophecy, hangs in the air between us. And yet, here she stands—human, fragile, radiant.

Before I can speak, the man from earlier leans into view from behind her. His presence, like a shadow creeping into my space, tugs at my attention. He says something, but the words do not register in my mind. I refuse to even acknowledge him.